 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
WEEPING MARY.
IMITATED FROM THE LATIN, IN THE CATHOLIC PRAYER-BOOK.
Weeping Mary, bathed in sorrow,
Lingered near the scene of horror,
Where the dying Saviour hung;
From whose bursting heart arising,
Groans of anguish agonizing,
Floated e'er his fevered tongue!
Lingered near the scene of horror,
Where the dying Saviour hung;
From whose bursting heart arising,
Groans of anguish agonizing,
Floated e'er his fevered tongue!
202
Oh what sorrow, deep, unbounded,
That maternal bosom wounded,
Once the Saviour's couch of rest!
How she wept to see him languish,
How she trembled for the anguish
Laboring in his guiltless breast!
That maternal bosom wounded,
Once the Saviour's couch of rest!
How she wept to see him languish,
How she trembled for the anguish
Laboring in his guiltless breast!
Who could witness, without weeping,
Gushing streams of sorrow sweeping
Down the mother's pallid cheek?
Who, with bosom unrelenting,
Could behold her thus lamenting,
Looking what no tongue could speak?
Gushing streams of sorrow sweeping
Down the mother's pallid cheek?
Who, with bosom unrelenting,
Could behold her thus lamenting,
Looking what no tongue could speak?
While such pangs as fiends invented,
Still her suffering Son tormented,
Scorn and bruises, stripes and death;
She beheld him thus expiring,
Human friends in fear retiring,
Whilst in groans he spent his breath!
Still her suffering Son tormented,
Scorn and bruises, stripes and death;
She beheld him thus expiring,
Human friends in fear retiring,
Whilst in groans he spent his breath!
Matchless mercy! love amazing!
Far above our feeble praising,
Far beyond our humble lays;
May its influence never vary,
Till my heart, like that of Mary,
Glow with a seraphic blaze.
Far above our feeble praising,
Far beyond our humble lays;
May its influence never vary,
Till my heart, like that of Mary,
Glow with a seraphic blaze.
203
Gracious Saviour, now in glory!
Be this sad, affecting story
Deeply on thy soul imprest!
May the scene of such affliction,
Bring the hardest heart conviction,
Melt the most obdurate breast!
Be this sad, affecting story
Deeply on thy soul imprest!
May the scene of such affliction,
Bring the hardest heart conviction,
Melt the most obdurate breast!
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |